Whispers of Blossoms

CHAPTER TWO: WHEN PATHS FIRST CROSSED

The morning air was crisp as Qiqi left the manor, carrying a small woven basket for Old Madam Xiao. Her grandmother had run out of the ointment for aching joints, and Qiqi had volunteered to buy more from the market in Luoyang.

The streets were alive with activity. Merchants called out their prices, children ran between stalls, and the scent of steamed buns, herbs, and roasted chestnuts filled the air. Qiqi walked quietly, her eyes cast down, but her movements were fluid and graceful.

At the medicine stall, she reached for the last jar of ointment, only to find another hand reaching for it at the same time. Qiqi looked up to see a tall, elegant stranger with hair as white as snow at the tips and black as ink at the roots. His eyes were kind, and his voice was soft as he said, “Oh, forgive me. You can have it.”

Qiqi shook her head, her eyes dropping to the ground. “No, sir. You saw it first.”

The stranger’s gaze lingered on her wrist, where faint bruises showed beneath her sleeve. “Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.

Qiqi’s heart skipped a beat. No one ever asked her that. She pulled her sleeve down and shook her head again. “I’m fine.”

The stranger seemed to sense her unease and didn’t press the matter. “Then at least take it,” he said, his voice still gentle. “It looks like you need it more than I do.”

Qiqi hesitated, then accepted the jar with both hands and bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

The stranger nodded, watching her as she disappeared into the crowd. Something about her quietness stayed with him, and he found himself looking in the direction she had gone, his hand half-raised as if wanting to call out but not knowing what to say.

As Qiqi walked back to the manor, the weight of her responsibilities settled back onto her shoulders. She tucked the precious jar of ointment deep into her basket, the memory of the stranger’s soft voice feeling like a treasure.

In the main courtyard, the silence was oppressive. Qiqi hurried to the kitchens to drop off the market supplies, then went straight to Old Madam Xiao’s private chambers. The old woman’s gentle smile and soft voice were a balm to Qiqi’s frazzled nerves.

As Qiqi massaged the ointment into her grandmother’s aching joints, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. But it was short-lived. When she went to fetch the laundry, her sisters, Xiao Mao and Xiao Lu, were waiting for her.

Mao’s eyes were cold as she inspected the clothes Qiqi had washed. “This robe should have been pressed and delivered to Father an hour ago,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re so careless, Qiqi. What would Father do without us to take care of you?”

Lu’s voice was like ice as she added, “I saw a man at the market today. The General’s eldest son, Wei Leiyang. He’s said to be the most perfect catch in the capital. That’s the kind of destiny a girl born into privilege can achieve. Not someone like you, Qiqi. You should remember your station.”

Qiqi’s eyes dropped to the ground as her sisters walked away, their words leaving her feeling small and insignificant. But she knew she had to keep moving, had to keep her head down and her hands busy. It was the only way to survive in the Xiao Manor.